


Tastes like Ash

by Ghelik



Series: Life after the Mountain [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellamy Has Feelings, Bellamy-centric, Coping, F/M, Insomnia, Or trying to, Post-Mount Weather, War Crimes, sex as a coping mechanism is very uneffective, unbetad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst are the nights. When he’s lying in his cot, alone inside of what’s left of the Ark. He has a room for himself, with walls and a door and even a small table and a dresser. It feels wrong to be on his own. It felt wrong when they took Octavia and his mum. Afterwards he wasn’t really alone at any given point of the day. Now Octavia has Lincoln – he shudders a little, but every time it’s less and less, so he guesses he’ll be able to look him in the eye again at some point...  - So he’s on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tastes like Ash

Bellamy has always liked children, even on the Ark where he didn’t allow himself to like much of anything. 

 

Children with their bright bell-like laughs are something precious that must be protected. Now they are on the ground and, he can hear them from inside the remains of the Ark: laughing and shrieking, running around without a care in the world. They are safe and free, and that makes every sacrifice worth it.

He has a room for himself now inside of what's left of the Ark, with walls and a door and even a small table and a dresser

  
Nights are the worst: when he's alone in his room, trying to sleep.  It has always felt wrong to be alone. It did when they took Octavia and his mom. He misses not being on his own when the Dropship landed he was never alone. Now Octavia has Lincoln – the name still makes him shudder, but every time he does it a little bit less, so he guesses he’ll be able to look Lincoln in the eye again at some point – and Clarke’s not here anymore. So he’s on his own. Again.

  
When he can hear noises, it’s kind of fine. Bellamy can imagine the hum of the engines that kept the Ark on the sky, can imagine that the last months have been some sort of nightmare: he didn’t shoot Jaha., he didn’t kill all those people, he wasn’t abandoned, he’s still some lowlife in the Ark.

  
But when there’s no one about, when he’s supposed to be sleeping, the nightmares creep on him, and the ghosts seem to line the walls. Pointing at him. Bellamy sees the twisted bodies of the mountain men, the choking victims of the culling, burning grounders and the accusing eyes of the delinquents he’s let down.

 

So he swallows down the ash, stands up and walks out of his small quarters.

  
The sun hasn’t risen yet, there’s nowhere he needs to be, but he makes his way to the watchtower anyway, where he relieves the night-guard. There’s no way he’s going back to sleep, so he might as well be useful.

 

Since the mountain time moves at a strange pace.

 Either it stands still for hours, or it jumps around at dizzying speeds.

  
The wall and the houses seem to sprout out of the ground in the blink of an eye. Snow just appeared one day, and now everything is covered in white, the air crisp and cold, whipping around and making people sick. The children love the snow, the adults hate how it turns to mush and gets water everywhere.

  
Miller climbs into the watchtower and shoots him a look that means he isn’t happy to see him here.

  
But Bellamy likes the watchtower, likes to look at the tree-tops and pretend there is nothing wrong, pretend he can’t see the corpses of all the people he’s killed just on the edge of his perception.

  
"I brought you something to eat," says Miller, and it feels like this has happened many times before, which might as well.

  
"I’m not hungry."

  
"I don’t care."

  
Bellamy tries glaring at Miller, but ends up noticing the gray in his closely cropped head and has to look away.

 

He put that gray in there: when he made Miller his lieutenant when he shoved so much on his young shoulders. 

  
Bellamy takes the bowl and makes a show of sticking the spoon into his mouth. It tastes like ash. Bile rises in his throat. 

Miller will worry if he doesn’t see him eat something and he doesn’t want to add any gray to his hair. So he chokes two spoonfuls down and throws the rest over the edge of the watchtower when Miller isn’t looking.  
A part of him knows he is fooling nobody.

 

Harper and Monroe are spending every meal with him, and it’s starting to look suspiciously like they’re keeping tabs on him. Which is ridiculous, because he’s fine. He’s just not hungry since everything started tasting like ash. Bellamy doesn't understand how anyone can bear it.

  
They’re talking, and he should be paying more attention.

 

Bellamy knows he has to sleep to be able to do his fucking job, but he can’t seem to close his eyes. Nightmares haunt every night and the ghosts every day. Clarke would know what to do.

  
He’s halfway to the med-bay before he remembers Clarke’s not there. For a terrifying moment, he feels like he’s on the edge of a dark pit, leaning in until he almost falls over. Time seems to drag its heels down, and he wants to scream, but there’s no sound.

  
“ Maybe Monty would…?”

  
He cuts that thought at the root. He cannot burden Monty with this, not after what they’ve put him through. They didn’t have the right to soak his hands in blood like that.

  
He manages to stumble back from the dark pit. 

 

Bellamy turns away from the med-bay with a stern scolding and finds himself at the canteen. They have a sort of bar now, someone’s playing music and the chatter washes over him. His heart is still beating harshly, but he manages to keep that to himself.

  
"You look terrible."

  
He looks up to find a soft smile and brown eyes. She has shoulder-long brown hair and pink lips, her eyes are kind and innocent, and he feels guilty almost as soon as he plasters a cocky smile on his lips.

  
"Thanks, I try."

  
She blushes.  


"I haven’t seen you around," she says, leaning on the counter and playing with her hair.

  
Her name is Gina, she’s nice, and isn’t a part of the delinquents, wasn’t in Mount Weather... A fresh start.

  
That’s what the ground was supposed to be. Maybe Bellamy can have it now that everyone seems to be safe.

  
A small voice in the back of his mind tells him that there are some that are not safe inside Arkadia: like Murphy and Clarke. He tramples that with a passion and then proceeds to make small talk with Gina.

  
He likes the way she laughs. He likes that he’s able to make her laugh.

 

Things are better when he doesn’t have to sleep alone, yet nightmares still come with Gina lying next to him, but at least he can get a few hours of shuteye before they come back growling and screeching.

  
He tries to keep quiet when he cries, doesn’t want to wake her, so he curls in a tight ball and bites his knuckles and tries not to shake.

 

She wakes one day, which would have blown this whole arrangement to hell, but she hugs him and shushes him, stroking circles on his back. Gina doesn’t pity him, listens to what he has to say and doesn’t push when he can't talk.

  
Food tastes better when they eat together. Not much, but at least he doesn’t have to choke on every bite. Monroe and Harper smile more around him, and Miller stops trying to play mother hen. Monty sits with them sometimes. Looking at him is difficult, but he forces himself to do it anyway.

 

With Gina, he feels safe. Knows there’s stuff he cannot talk to her about- he shouldn’t trouble her with. Gina’s clean and Bellamy’s not. He burdened Clarke until she broke, he doesn’t want to do that with Gina. So he keeps climbing the watchtower in the crack of dawn, where he can look out for a flash of gold between the trees.

  
He doesn’t know when Clarke became his best friend. She snuck up on him and made herself a fixture in his life, even when they weren’t together, she was there.

  
He wants –needs - to talk to Clarke. That’s what he does during those twilight hours, very softly least somebody hears and thinks he’s finally lost his mind. The last thing he needs is to be forced to go to medical and meet the disappointment in Abby’s eyes.

  
"I don’t need you anymore," he whispers one of those mornings, legs dangling out of the watchtower and eyes intent on the forest across the plain surrounding Arkadia.

  
It feels like a lie, but she doesn’t have to know that.

  
Bellamy crosses his arms and repeats it. He’ll keep repeating it until it’s true until he stops subconsciously searching for yellow hair.

  
"I don’t need you anymore."

  
He has Miller and Monroe and Harper and even Monty, and O. He has Gina and the rest of the delinquents…. Why should he need her? He’s fine. It’s not like he has to make a lot of decisions now that the grounders have left them in peace and Abby and Kane are sort-of co-chancellors.

  
They’re better off now. They have a real chance without him tainting everything and Clarke trying to keep everything together.

  
"I don’t need you anymore, you hear me? You don’t need to come back because we don’t need you."

  
He feels like screaming, but he stays silent.

  
The sun is rising over the treetops, and for a moment everything is pink and gold.

  
He doesn’t need her because he has other friends. It doesn’t matter that she’s the only one who knows everything, how it feels and what he’s done. That she’s his best friend. That they were supposed to be in this together. It doesn’t matter.

  
It.  


Doesn’t  


He want’s to yell at her that he doesn’t need her anymore.

  
"Come back," is what he manages to choke out instead.

**Author's Note:**

> As always this is unbetad.  
> Thanks for reading and commenting :)


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